Starfox: Emergence
by JyrFalcon345
Summary: An alien planet blinks into existence in the middle of the Lylat system, and half the Cornerian military, along with several mercenary and research teams are dispatched to discover it's secrets. But some secrets are meant to stay buried.


_Alright, so a few things. This is my first time writing fan-fiction in a number of years, so any issues you see in regards to writing style or consistency, are going to be worked out as the narrative develops- and let me know if you see them- I could use a beta reader also. . I've always found that Krystal and the 'emergence'- pardon the pun- of the Cerenians has been somewhat difficult to nail down as concepts. I haven't played the games, but I've read the fan-fiction- hundreds of examples. This is an attempt to tread new ground._

 _Review if you like it., or if you don't. You guys are awesome._

The house was a mid 27th century brownstone, with three floors, two master bathrooms- and an integrated tight beam transmitter dish mounted directly on the roof. It was one of the first things Donald Pepper had set himself upon purchasing- no, commissioning really- when he'd gotten his posting. When a person ends up effectively saving civilization at least once, they're allowed certain liberties, and being such a person, Pepper had decided that he and his wife would have a proper home in a gated community, with trees bordering the cobblestone front walk- a meandering, winding affair that directly matched the path of a prominent river, and was lined with little solar powered guide lights.

There were of course, certain things that couldn't be avoided, despite ones status however. Meetings. Bureaucracy, brinkmanship, and the knowledge that at any time, even ensconced within his own home, the peace they cherished could be shattered. That damned dish on his roof was the bane of his existence. It funneled daily reports, allowed for direct tracking of almost every ship within protected space, and also allowed for priority calls to be funneled right to his bedside.

And tonight it would ring.

And he'd be damned pissed, and take it out on the puke on the other end of the phone, because when that same minor functionary wakes you _and your wife_ up at three o clock in the fucking morning...it's your solemn duty to ruin his day.

Pepper's voice was a low, parquet hugging growl as he responded to the voice on the other end of the line: _"Son, this had better be good. My wife and I just got through having a good screw not three hours ago. I made her tap out, put her to bed as a gentlemen should, and you've roused her from that much needed sleep. Now what in Sam Hell do-"_ General Pepper's voice broke off as the person on the other end of the phone made the potentially career-ending decision to interrupt the hound in mid rant. Across from him, his wife of four years, a cream colored, and wonderfully leggy saluki sat up in bed and looked at him. Becky blinked sleep from her eyes and reflexively raked her claws through the ruff of fur at the back of his neck, feeling the muscles beneath ripple as he moved to sit up. She thought she could hear the handset's polymer bonds beginning to give, one by one as his grip tightened, and placed a hand on his back- that sort of volcanic rage wasn't good for his heart, the doctors had said.

Not that he'd listen to sense.

And then, the breath that Donald had been holding slithered out in a low aggrieved hiss.

To the saluki's surprise, her husband hadn't finished biting off the poor unfortunate sod's head. Instead, he'd swung his feet out of bed, sitting ramrod straight as he actually _listened_ to the person on the other end of the line.

" _Say it again Specialist. I don't think I heard you correctly."_ Pepper's voice was now deadly calm. _"Sweet cheese and fucking crackers. Alright. I want a courier vessel at my residence, parked on my front lawn within the next forty five minutes, I don't care what noise ordinances you have to break. Just keep a lid on everything till I get there."_

The General hung up the phone with a click, just as his wife turned on the bedside lamp and reveled to look at him. A hand reached out to cup the side of his face. "Jesus Donny, you look like hell." Becky murmured, unnerved by the vaguely stricken look plastered across his face.

"I just had that damned lawn re sodded. Knew there was a good chance i'd need to land a ship there at some point, just didnt' think it'd be right frakkin _now."_

Pepper's wife fixed him with an annoyed eye roll- he had a tendency to focus in on the most inane things sometimes- and then gave him an affectionate peck on the side of his muzzle.

"Well, you didn't marry me for my looks." His response made her smile weakly, and he nuzzled the inside of her palm regretfully before sighing and springing out of bed, making a beeline for the shower.

Becky padded over to the closet, flipping on the rest of the room lights, and getting out one of his dress uniforms. By the time he'd stepped out of the shower, combed his fur and turned on the local news via the holonet display system, she'd already laid out a perfectly pressed dress uniform and battle dress uniform set, along with his kit bag, military communications unit, and somewhat more disconcertingly, his sidearm and shoulder holster, the oiled leather of which gleamed darkly in the bright light. A dark, thick eyebrow rose in momentary consternation.

Only _he_ was supposed to know the code to _his_ arms locker.

"I'm not even gonna ask how in sam hell you got into my SafeLok-" the bloodhound yelled over his shoulder, words muffled by the handle of a toothbrush clamped between his jaws. Becky's reply floated in from the living room "You used my birthday as a password. That's very bad."

"Yes...it is...and if you were an enemy agent I'd be dead already. I'll change it when I get back. " He looked at the neat way she'd set everything out and, on impulse pulled the white furred canine close for a fierce kiss. "Sometimes I wonder if _you_ shouldn't be wearing the damned rank insignia instead of me. You're sharper than a razor, hon." Donald made his way into the living room already wearing the bottom half of his powder blue and greyish black patterned battle dress uniform, the top half

She grinned up at him, expression tinged with worry. "I'm a Corps wife, sharpness is part of the contract."

Over the next fifteen minutes Pepper put on his BDU and packed his dress uniform in a second bag. The hound was checking the action on his side-arm, as his wife asked:

"Is it Andross?"

"No."

Dark furred hands fumbled with laces as he tied his boots.

"Is it worse?"

He shot her a look, wondering how much she already knew.

"Don't know yet. Either way, shit's about to get hairy." The general stood up just as when an earsplitting whining shriek enveloped the house. "That's my ride, hope he has the sense to hover and not tear the lawn a new asshole. " Pepper picked up his bags, stepped out the front door toward the yawning gull-wing doors of the _Interdictor_ class interplanetary transport.

Becky watched from below as the ship took off and pulled into a vertical climb, taking her husband away from her. "You come home dammit." As she closed the door and threw herself onto the living room couch, somehow she knew...this time it _would_ be worse.

…...

Location: Lylat- Terrapin Staging Ground

Time : 1630 GST

"All I'm asking you to do is bring him back safe."

Peppy's voice was a placating mutter as Fox Mccloud stalked out of the turbo-lift into the Great Fox's hangar bay and made a move toward the dark green SUV parked- or more correctly- secured in the space directly to the right of the lift's access doors. He walked to the front of the vehicle and started angrily undoing the front-most strap.

"Two...fucking...days Pops!"

The sentence came out as a series of explosive, gasping snarls as he yanked at the latch. It finally gave and he moved onto the next one. The sound echoed sharply in the cramped chamber, which was only just large enough to accommodate the mercenary team's various vehicles, spaceships, and their most recent shipment of supplies.

The grey furred rabbit moved to the opposite side of the vehicle and started undoing the other straps. "We didn't lose any time. Our other contracts don't start for another six days."

"That's not the point-" Fox yanked the last pin loose, hauled the netting off the vehicle and almost tripped as a moniter lizard wearing a black jacket and holding a white matching one with the Star-Fox logo swung into view not two yards off.

"Jesus Slippy, stop sidling up like that."

A pink tongue flicked out to taste the air, and black eyes fixed on his mildly, seemingly un-preturbed by the outburst. "You left your jacket on the bridge. It's raining, and you'll need it." The lizard tossed the jacket without looking, and Fox caught it deftly.

Carl Masters, or Slippy as he was known, was the third pilot, served as the group's primary technical know-it-all and was unlike any other member of his species that Fox had ever met. Soft spoken, highly intelligent, with a love of technological esoterica that went into obsession. He could brute force a problem until it became a solution, and was the only _pure_ civilian any of them had ever seen who'd managed to gain at least basic flight competency with the Arwing in the six week evaluation course they threw at every single applicant the elite Star Fox group had gotten.

He also, unfortunately, had an annoying propensity for electronic monitoring devices, and seemed to delight in 'bugging' fox- quite literally. It had come in handy a number of times, when he'd found himself in hairy situations on stations outside the bounds of galactic law, and the reptile's knowledge of some tangential conversation with a criminal bigwig had saved their lives. It also meant however, that if the lizard wanted to, he could probably ruin Fox's life with the push of a button. Thankfully, Carl didn't seem especially malevolent. Even so, Fox made sure never to thrash him too badly at cards. Just in case.

The canine saw that the lizard had already put on a pair of headphones and was idly paging through some sort of news feed on his wrist mounted computer interface while drumming his fingers on the armrest.

"I've gotta get out of here. Be back in a few hours. Gotta stop at Zalgos on the way back. The Center's people'll grab him from there. Then he'll be their problem."

Fox slid into the drivers seat and thumbed the starter switch, not failing to catch the unhappy look on the rabbit's face. Peppy had been a mentor and father figure to him after _his_ father had passed, and effectively taken in Falco as a second (figurative) son. For some reason Fox felt that the avian had always been spoiled somewhere. This wasn't how he, Peppy, would have done it, he knew. But they'd wasted enough time already.

The SUV began slowly threading its way out through the winding path of boxes, pulling out into the driving rain. Icy needles pelted the roof as the car growled its way down the egress ramp. Fox pulled a half circle, then shifted into first and gunned the engine, narrowed gaze focused on the gatehouse at the other end of the military base's huge landing field.

… _..._

It took the pair over two and a half hours to make their way to the police station and it rained buckets during the entirety of the drive. Neither of them spoke, Carl because he'd fallen asleep listening to classical music- seat cranked all the way back until he was almost prone, tail twitching occasionally as though the thing had a mind of it's own, and Fox because the traffic required his utmost attention.

Plus, he was thinking over exactly how to approach the oncoming confrontation.

And it wouldn't be very hard for the avian to say something off color enough to make him fighting mad. Both of them burned hot, and Falco knew this and would capitalize on it. The SUV shifted into a lane for an exit ramp, shuddering slightly as a wave of water slammed into it from a passing semi truck.

 _We've tried being nice, tried the emotional approach. He acts like we're coddling him. How do you reach a brick wall? I've tried being there for him...and yet..._

The stoplight ahead had turned green and the car behind him honked angrily. Fox blipped the horn in automatic response, and made a left, threading his way onto a side street just off the main thoroughfare, populated by dozens of small shops that clustered around the police station like chicks round a mother hen.

They were around the back of the building now, pulling into the civilian parking lot that was ringed with dully glowing security fencing. Most of the squad cars were doubtless out on patrol, and Fox pulled into the parking spot that was closest to the entrance. He jumped as he felt the monitor lizard crank his seat back up and start gathering himself together.

"So, this is it? Never been inside a police station before."

"Surprised you're coming in."

"Not gonna come in. I like the rain. I'll watch from the overhang. Keep an eye on the car, listen to music..."

They both got out, and quickly made their way into the shelter of the building, fox peeling off from lizard as they went their separate ways.

Inside, his request was processed quickly, which wasn't surprising given that he was the only visitor they had at the moment. The officer behind the front desk was an old beagle, possessed of many jowls who quirked an eyebrow at the recognizable last name of Lombardi.

"He's a mouthy one."

"I know. Never shuts up."

"Good pilot though."

Fox was temped to tell the guy that Falco _had_ been a _great_ pilot before whatever in the hell demon that was stuck inside his head rose to the surface, and that now as far as _he_ , Fox was concerned, Falco was nothing more than a bird who had a flight certification. Certainly not someone he wanted flying with him into battle.

But he didn't because the hound didn't deserve it. Instead Fox got his ticket- _fucking pointless if I'm the only one here_ \- he thought, and after about twenty minutes a guard came out to collect him.

The facility was modern, with lighting and heating and soundproofed cells- individual and common- but also spartan. The scents of urine, alcohol, unwashed bodies, disinfectant and stale vomit wafted along as they entered the security wing. The officer- a gerbil who barely came up to Fox's knees and wore a wrist mounted tazer walked alongside him and seemed unperturbed by the various cretins making faces, kicking the plasteel doors and generally trying to get a rise out of them. The canine squeezed the bridge of his nose and tried unsuccessfully to keep his fur from rising in frustration. _Two days. Two days fucking wasted because that damned idiot couldn't hold his liquor._

 _If this doesn't work we're going to need somone else._

The time had come to make a decision.

One he hadn't wanted to make.

The gerbil was talking now, broad cap wobbling as he waddled along, voice significantly higher than Fox's. It might have been funny if he hadn't been so damned annoyed.

"We managed to get him in a cell by himself. Military status nets him a certain privilage, and I'm guessing you guys don't _want_ him getting the crap kicked out of him by half the malcontents in the Tank..."

"Speak for yourself." Fox said, wincing inwardly at the derision dripping from his words. The diminutive gerbil shot him a sharp, somewhat surprised glance, and he winced even harder at the fact that he'd _meant_ it. _Maybe he needs to get the crap kicked out of him or do some hard time in order to get himself on track._ More or less the same lines he'd given to Peppy back on the Great fox when they'd been standing in one of the repair gantries watching the techs tear apart the forward laser batteries in order to get at the primary focal emitter...

 _The hare's eyes looked tired as Fox continued talking- he'd been doing so for three minutes already-_ _ **"and I know we grew up together, but this is**_ _ **beyond**_ _ **a fixable problem. It's an addiction. Something deep set, and I don't think he can fight this. I tried getting him to take advantage of the therapy window that opened up after the Praxis Three job,but he's hard headed to a fault and refuses."**_

 _Peppy shot him a glance._ _ **"Didn't you take that bender right after fara left you three years ago? I still can't get that one stain out of your third flight suit."**_

 _Fox had laughed in spite of himself._ _ **"Sargasso station liquor. Never again."**_ _The canine's smile faded._ _ **"I just don't know if I can do it again. Sooner or later he's gonna get somebody killed..."**_

"Sir? Are you ready to go in? I've got others waiting to do visitation..." Fox chuffed and shook himself.

"Lets do this."

The scuffed, see through Durapoly door- two feet thick, bulletproof and magnetically locked to the floor swung upward with a whine of protesting motors, and Fox instinctively ducked his head as he stepped inside and forced himself to look at the figure sitting on the edge of the cot.

"This is one hell of a fix."

The door closed behind Fox, trapping them both inside. "Hey yourself." The blue feathered avian wasn't even looking at him, just responding automatically. Fox sighed and leaned against the door, crossing his booted feet over one another, and looking nonchalantly at his claws as he muttered.

"Why do they always call me?"

"I put you down as my emergency when I joined up. You think _I'd_ call you on purpose?"

Falco's eyes were accusatory pools now, head swiveled to look at him with the intensity of a target designation beam. Fox was angry now.

"That was a rhetorical question. Look I'm fucking pissed-"

"If that snot nosed little shit hadn't gotten mouthy, he wouldn't have gotten popped."

"And if you hadn't been almost dead drunk, you'd have broken the side of his face. As it was, you missed."

Falco looked surprised, then disappointed, and Fox forced himself not to smile at the expression.

"Fuck."

"Yeah, I know, kinda makes what I'm about to do seem kinda pointless, this whole 'punitive action' thing- but I'm past caring. Peppy's not, but I am. But then, he's the one who took you in like a son, I'm just the idiot who acts like you're my adopted brother or something."

Falco's shoulder's slumped. "Asshole."

The avian sounded defeated then, and Fox felt his heart throb. "What the hell happened to you? How'd you go from our best pilot and secondary flight leader, to a washout who can't even stay sober long enough to pass a government- hell _military_ mandated piss test?!"

Falco started laughing, sharp cackling barks of laughter, something ugly in the tone."Why don't we go to a bar and I'll show you?"

"I'm stripping you of your flight privileges."

Fox's voice was matter of fact, a pointing finger pinning Lombardi to the spot.

Falco wasn't laughing any more. "Are you frickin serious?!"

" _And_ suspending your concealed carry license under Article 6-221 of the Mercenary Employment Articles so you don't go hog wild and shoot someone and catch a fuckin' murder charge. I can invoke the Cornerian Flight Corps regs if you want also."

"Listen fox, you're not gonna take my ship away from me, I'll-"

"Shut. Your. Mouth. I'm putting my boot on your face in order to save your life, and to keep this team in line. Slippy used to look up to you, back when it was just the three of us. Now he thinks you're a damned joke. Had to beg him to trace you down. I'm booking you for three weeks of therapy and a full detox session. This is your last chance to get to the bottom of this. You fuck up one more time, and I'll boot you off the ship in the deepest part of the City I can find with the rest of your credits and the clothes on your back. If you still want to kill yourself after all that, then that's _your_ business."

Throughout all of it, Fox's voice hadn't risen above a conversational level, but there was an iron intensity that caused even Falco's alcohol addled brain to shut up and listen.

"Know...you sound just like your old man."

Fox gave a sour grin. "Yeah, 'cept he'd have been busy beating you into the deck plating while giving that same speech. At least I'm still using words. But make no mistake, I'm royally pissed at you. You'e got another full day in the drunk tank, and then I want you to make it to Zalgo's and hold up there until the Wellness center comes to collect you. Don't try to leave, don't start shit with anyone. Punch the bag if you get mad, read the fucking rulebooks if you get bored. Get your head togther, and _maybe_ within the next few months, you'll be back in the saddle."

Fox turned to go, and almost missed Falco's final question: "My Arwing, what's gonna happen to her?"

The rust colored vulpine halted outside the open door. "I'm looking at opening up recruitment. Expanding the team. If they don't come with their own fighter craft...they'll get yours." The bird look horror struck, and fox chose that moment to walk out the door, ignoring the enraged screech that rattled the walls as he walked back down the hall toward Receiving.

The gerbil was back in step with him again. "Friend of yours?"

Fox sighed, feeling the tension build into a headache. "I don't know anymore."

…...

Fox had only been standing outside the short, squat building that comprised Dalatress City's local prescient for about ten minutes, watching the pouring rain when Carl came out of the shadows, wearing his jacket and the integrated heatpack around his core. The ever-present headphones were clamped over the sides of his head. Monitor lizards didn't technically have 'ears', and Fox had always found it funny how he'd taken to wearing something that was designed for warm blooded mammals. Apparently he had "special earholes."

The canine's cold numbed hands fumbled with the small square package as he fished a cigarette out of a pack and quickly pulled out a second one, which he handed to the lizard. A quick pulse of light from Fox's lighter, and the pair were smoking in companionable silence for several moments until:

"You're not really gonna replace him are you?"

Fox rolled his eyes skyward and blew out a jet of smoke before snapping: "God Slip, how many times do I have to tell you, stop putting listening devices in my damn shit?! If you'd wanted to come in with me-"

"-I know, I should have done it. But, I didn't want to. Actually, I'm still mad at him for punching me."

Carl looked unrepentant, and then mildly conflicted.

"He actually hit you?!" Fox shot the entrance a look as though he was half tempted to go back in and teach Falco some manners personally, but Carl gently thumped him on the shoulder. "He said I could hit him back. Didn't get a chance to. So, until I get to do that, you can't hit him either."

A series of burbling warbles sounded from the lizard's forearm and he raised a custom built micro rig to chest level, watching as it's holo emitters stitched text into the air within a tenth of a second.

"I think Peppy's gonna cut our leave short. There's a big shakeup near the border worlds. MNDA sensors just locked in a huge emission three hours ago."

Fox took another drag. "And that means...?"

"Mass Neutrino Detection Array. Useful for detecting when a warp core goes critical Or if a star goes nova. Very expensive. He's gonna call."

"Who?" Fox's communicator rang. "You know, that's damned creepy...yeah?" The handset was pressed to his ear now. "Yeah, I...just got through reading him the riot- what?! I just finished telling him I'd grounded- you're joking...he wants... dammit Peppy!"

Fox closed the handset and rubbed the back of his neck, taking in a sharp drag. Carl shot him a quizzical look.

"Pepper's just called us out of hibernation. Everyone. Us and three other mercenary companies have to be on standby and folded in with the rest of the first fleet to provide interplanetary interdiction services just off the primary transit hub. I've gotta go get Falco."

"He's gonna be insufferable." Carl's voice was barely above a murmur as he took another drag, and Fox started trudging toward the entrance. "Yeah, what else is new?"

…...

Location: Lylat Landing fields

Time: 2100 GST

"Allright...engines...mostly green, atmospheric shields online, armor integrity at 97%..."

Carl checked off digits on his fingers as he spun round in his chair. Above him, Peppy Hare frowned at a series of balance sheets at his command station as they waited for Fox to get to the bridge level.

And still the rain pounded.

"The techs say we're basically good to go. I've got the rest of their work order on file, the Fleet yard-hands can get the work done when we fold in. But if we get some dock time, I want to supervise, make sure they don't get the tolerances on number two wrong, or else it could throw off our firing angles... Fox _report to the bridge please?"_ This last sentence crackled over the intercom, and a few minutes later the canine burst into the bridge and flopped into his seat.

"Fuckin birds."

Peppy settled into the command chair on the Great Fox's bridge level, and started inputting launch codes, while the lizard bouncing between talking with the air/space traffic controllers and making final adjustments to the ship's subsystems Falco's station at main weapons control sat conspicuously empty.

They'd gotten back aboard ship in record time, with Masters doing the navigating and Fox driving the boxy Stellaris SUV back to the spaceport. Falco had walked out the police station crowing about how 'no prison could hold him', and then tried to haul off and hit Fox for daring to try and take away his flight privileges. That could have easily turned into a real scrum until Slippy darted in and pressed a tazer into the side of the avian's neck. Fox had gotten shocked too- hell they _all_ had, but Falco had gotten the worst of it. So they'd bundled the unconscious, wet bird into the trunk, "not the backseat, he doesn't _deserve_ the backseat" Fox had snapped- gotten to the spaceport and pulled all kinds of hell trying to get the ship ready to get off the tarmack.

Fox felt the ship shudder slightly as the ship's massive bulk lifted slowly off the ground and began accelerating and banking softly to the northeast, rain streaking across the visual pickup as green flight vectors, horizon lines and other data painted itself across the main display. Dozens of communications satellites were highlighted as the main sensors pinged them and the little craft scooted into different orbital tracks on their approach.

Soon they were leaving the gravity well, and streaking alongside other ships beelining toward the massive orbital gate that would take them to the system's central terminus- mostly freighters and commuter vessels- although there seemed to be a strange backup in the conga line.

"I'm getting chatter that the terminus is completely off limits. Anyone trying to get there will have to follow designated transwarp markers. Wait...we just got clearance. Only us."

Fox furrowed his brow. "That's a first. Anything else?"

"We're being advised to...cycle our FTL field at least two minutes before the scheduled exit and get to the destination on sub-light engines. Fleet's got some sort of a cordon set up, but they need us to help enforce it."

 _Jesus, the old bastard really DOES want us there_ _yesterday,_ _but what's with the weird jump perameters?_ Fox mused inwardly as the ship rocketed to the front of the line that was now hundreds of ships long, and began aligning itself for the jump. Pepper hadn't called them directly for almost six months, and they'd been busy refitting their ships, living semi normal lives, or getting blind drunk and trying to punch people in the case of Falco. Speaking of Falco...

"Lombardi's in his quarters?" Peppy's voice was mild, but Fox had lived with him long enough to detect the edge in his tone.

"Yeah. I told him not to show up here until he was sober, showered, and in a fresh uniform. Remind me to put all the shipboard alcohol under lock and key."

Peppy closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair: "That's not gonna stop him."

"I can change the locks."

"That isn't the root of the problem either, Fox, and you know it."

"Do you? The only one who knows what's going on in that feather covered head at this point is Falco, and whatever unlucky shrink we dump him on when we get on station."

Peppy's chair swiveled and he fixed Fox with a stern look. "We are not just 'dumping' Lombardi anywhere. Pepper gave us directives and we're going to follow them."

Fox's words slipped out from between clenched fangs.

"And if he wigs out when we're in the field, what then? I'm gonna talk to Pepper and have him put Falco on some sort of program. He needs help. And _you_ can't save him. Not by yourself."

Peppy made a move to respond, but was interrupted as Masters said: "Warp drives charged and ready. Gate approach path cleared hot. I'll take us in."

As the Great Fox sped onward into the void, the older rabbit mused: "Perhaps you're right, Fox. Perhaps you're right..."

 _Had to make some serious changes to aspects of the narrative, and clean it up as well. Let me know what you think. Thanks for your reviews. Next chapter coming within the next two weeks or shorter if the mood strikes me. ` -Jyr._


End file.
